What's There to Worry About?
by newbie93
Summary: Jemma finds herself having to calm a nervous Fitz as they prepare for a rather important dinner.


_**Written for FitzSimmons Week on Tumblr (organized by the wonderful FitzSimmons Network). The prompt for Day #1 was: Family. Naturally all characters belong to Marvel/AoS.**_

"Oh _Fitz._ Will you quit fidgeting? Honestly."

Jemma tightens her fingers around the small strip of fabric, tugging it slightly and arching an eyebrow at the man in front of her in warning.

He stills instantly but she's close enough that she can actually _feel_ him vibrating with the nerves that have been building up since the first authorized guest was escorted, blindfold and all, into the Playground. She's _also_ close enough to see the perspiration gathering on his forehead and sighs in disappointment at the realization that her best friend in the world will likely sweat through the new shirt she'd bought him before they'd even make it to the appetizers.

"M'sorry! I just… what if everything goes to shit?"

He's biting his lip nervously and, though slightly distracted by the sight of his mouth, Jemma chooses to focus on his words instead and sighs at their familiarity. She glances up at him with the same exasperated expression she's been wearing for the past week and begins to neatly knot the Windsor of his tie.

"Fitz, _nothing_ will go to shit. This has been planned for _weeks_ and nearly every agent on this base is ready to jump in should any potential snafu arise. _Relax._ "

They've had this conversation, or versions of it, nearly every night since they'd scheduled this get-together and, while Jemma has found herself growing calmer with each passing day, Fitz has only managed to work himself up into an even bigger ball of stress than normal.

It's a little endearing if she's being honest with herself, but Jemma doesn't want to give Fitz yet another thing to smugly lord over her in the future when she'll inevitably complain about it.

"But…"

 _On second thought…_

Maybe it is getting a _little_ irritating. The constant, "what ifs," have been a bit exhausting for Jemma to counter and, though she always _does_ manage to assuage Fitz's worry of the minute, a small, tiny, _miniscule really_ , part of her is beginning to wonder if Fitz's constant focus on what could go wrong might mean that he doesn't want things to go _right_.

It's ridiculous, the logical part of Jemma is more than aware that Fitz has been looking forward to this even longer than she has, but the other part of her, the part that remembers a year of hilted sentences and no eye contact, worries that there might be an underlying reason for her best friend's anxious pessimism.

She focuses on knotting the tie in front of her as her mind flits through the past few years of their relationship and tries to find any sign that Fitz might have had a change of heart.

The only memories she has though are of those in which Fitz had an almost incandescent smile on his face. Forcing herself to look back makes Jemma realize with sudden clarity that said smile is such a feature in her mind because, recently, it's seemingly always on Fitz's face. The thought causes Jemma's heart to pound erratically in her chest and she realizes that a similar smile has been on _her_ face just as often.

"…what if…"

The two words that usually cause Jemma to roll her eyes and huff in irritation suddenly fill her with a tenderness that makes her want to stop Fitz's worrying for good. They've been down this road too many times before for Jemma not to know that Fitz is one errant thought away from spiraling down into a pool of anxiety, and she decides that she won't let him voice his concern this time.

His mouth widens as he attempts to finish vocalizing whatever one-in-a-million awful scenario he's though of, so Jemma uses her tried-and-true method of shutting him up. She tugs at his freshly knotted tie, pulling him down to her and kissing him with a familiarity that causes a warmth to spread throughout her body.

The kiss is slow and languid and Jemma uses it as an opportunity to express all the reasons why Fitz has no reason to be anxious. Every flick of her tongue and shift of her lips is Jemma's way of making it as clear as she can that Fitz's concerns are unwarranted.

Of course, she knows that what's clear to _her_ is very rarely actually clear to _Fitz,_ so when Jemma pulls away with flushed cheeks and a beaming smile, she doesn't stray far. She rubs her nose affectionately against Fitz's before softly whispering against the stubble of his cheek.

"I don't know how you can be so worried when there's nothing to be worried _about._ "

She feels more than hears Fitz's sigh as it puffs out against her neck and tightens her arms around him.

"I just… I want everything to be perfect."

She pulls back at his mumbling and looks at Fitz with an overwhelming feeling of affection. His eyes are focused on her shoulder, refusing to meet her own even when she ducks her head to try and catch his attention, and Jemma feels her heart clench at his soft words.

"It doesn't _matter_ if everything's perfect Fitz. It's you and me and we've gone through too much to be worried about something as insignificant as one bloody dinner."

She'd meant the words to be comforting, to make Fitz realize that, in the grand scheme of things, this dinner won't matter (especially considering it's not even the most important event of the weekend), but he stiffens in her arms and takes a small step back.

"Well I happen to think that this dinner _is_ significant. And the _last_ time I thought a specific dinner was significant _you got sucked into an alien rock._ So forgive me for being be a smite less nonchalant about this whole thing than you."

Jemma bristles at his words and the almost biting tone he uses to speak them. She doesn't understand how he could honestly think that her feelings regarding the weekend are of _nonchalance,_ and she feels the telltale prickle of tears at the fact that Fitz would say such a thing to her. She moves to take a step away from him but doesn't even get her foot a millimeter off the ground before Fitz is stepping _towards_ her and enveloping her in a hug.

The bitter part of her wants to stiffen in his arms or push him away completely, but the hurt part of her wants her best friend to do what he does better than anyone else and comfort her. Jemma lets Fitz wrap himself around her, face tucked in the crook of her neck, and takes a few shaky breaths to get her emotions under control.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Jemma can feel Fitz's lips graze her neck when he speaks against her and she moves her hands to stroke through his hair while she waits for him to continue. A small part of her still wants to snap at him and tell him that, "sorry," isn't quite enough after he'd essentially just told her that she didn't care as much about this weekend as him, but she instead decides to hear him out.

"I just…"

He pulls back slightly so that he can look her in the eye, moving his hands to grasp hers in his own and squeezing them gently with a look of apology on his face.

"I've been thinking about this for awhile… a _long_ while… starting right around the time when you threw yourself off a damn airplane… and, I know it's silly and really _doesn't_ matter in the long run but… I just want tonight and tomorrow and every day after that to go well."

Jemma wishes she _hadn't_ decided to hear him out because it's very hard to stay upset at Fitz when he looks at her, eyes shining with sincerity and eagerness, and says things that makes her feel as though she could float away on a cliché (and wholly unrealistic) cloud of happiness.

She realizes that Fitz's worrying is directly linked to his innate need to do everything in his power to make things as perfect as possible, and feels an overwhelming surge of fondness for the man standing before her. She steps closer, looping her arms around his neck, and stares at him seriously in the hopes that he'll actually _hear_ what it is she's saying.

"I know you want things to be perfect Fitz but, they don't _have_ to be and they likely _won't_ be. But so long as we're together it won't _matter._ That's what I was getting at before. The dinners, parties, and all that other stuff don't matter, _we_ do."

The soft smile he gives her lets Jemma know that Fitz has _finally_ understood what she's been trying to say, today and nearly every day since that early morning in bed together, and she immediately mirrors it with her own upturn of the lips. He bends down, pressing a dozen chaste kisses to her mouth that leave her feeling giddy.

They spend a few long moments staring at each other and relishing in simply being together before Fitz glances down, eyes nearly bugging out of his head as he catches a look at his watch.

"Bloody hell… It's already ten past!"

Jemma gives him a look, raising an eyebrow in slight exasperation, and has to bite back her grin when Fitz hastily adds, "But it doesn't matter because it's not like they can start without us and so long as we're together everything's _already_ perfect."

The statement makes Jemma want to push Fitz back onto the bed and confirm that them being _together is_ rather perfect, but she knows that his newfound calmness is more of a façade to appease her than anything else, so she grabs his hand and tugs him out of their bedroom, beaming all the while.

They walk hand-in-hand down the chilly Playground corridor in the direction of the mess hall, Jemma squeezing Fitz's tightly in her own whenever he looks as though he might bolt ahead to lessen their lateness, and come to a stop outside the heavy doors.

She can hear the chatter from the other side and feels a small smile work its way across her face as she opens the door and is met with a sight that causes her heart to constrict in her chest.

Fitz's mum is chatting with her own parents, Skye perched beside them and no doubt trying to coax as many embarrassing stories out of them as possible. Bobbi and Lance had arrived the night before and are already bickering about something, rolled eyes and exasperated huffs and all, and Coulson is shooting them a stern look that screams, "Not today."

May and Mack are hovering in the corner, eyes scanning the room for any sign of a problem, ready to jump in at a moment's notice to correct any wrong. The rest of the agents are milling about, happily chatting with one another, and Jemma can feel the prickle of tears as she takes in the sight of her parents, _Fitz's_ mum, and _their_ friends- their _family-_ jovially gathered around in celebration.

 _For them._

"We're getting married tomorrow."

The words come out so softly that Jemma isn't certain she's even said them at all until she feels Fitz's hand tighten around her own.

She looks up at him and is struck by the expression that she's met with. It's one of complete and utter elation and, not for the first time, Jemma wonders how something so beautiful could ever be directed towards her. The smile on his face is larger than any she's seen before and Jemma wants to memorize everything about it.

"Yeah we are."

His smile somehow becomes more blinding and in it Jemma sees every hardship they've overcome and every moment that has brought them to this one. She doesn't even bother to hide the moisture in her eyes, instead standing on her toes to press her lips against Fitz's. It's not a kiss so much as two grinning idiots with their mouths pressed together, but it floods Jemma with warmth nonetheless.

When they pull away Jemma bites her lip in giddiness as Fitz grabs her hand again, tugging her towards their family and friends with an infectious smile that she hopes to see every day for the foreseeable future.


End file.
